Page 75 of The Faking Game
I kissed him yesterday and I liked it. It’s the safety of that, and the pounding of heat through me, that makes me ask for more.
“We should kiss. To really sell it.”
His eyes darken. “You’re done kissing men just to be nice.”
“I’m not being nice. I’m going to knee you again tomorrow.” I lean in another inch, breathing his air. “You told me I could practice with you. Whenever, wherever.”
“I did, didn’t I?” His eyes dip to mine. “I’m not going to stand still this time, trouble. Not if I’m kissing my fake girlfriend in public…”
He leans in slowly. Giving me plenty of time to pull away.
I don’t.
His lips brush over mine in tantalizingly faint contact that sends goose bumps down my arms.
No one has ever kissed me softly before.
It’s always been a rush of contact, a face against mine and the taste of expectation and demands. This is nothing like that.
He lifts his lips, hovers half an inch from mine. Like he’s checking that I’m still with him.
My fingers tighten in his hair in response.Yes.
He kisses me stronger, his lips moving over mine with practiced heat. I’m hyperaware of every point of contact between us—his hand on the bare skin of my back, his fingers around my knee, his strong body beneath mine.
I can’t think beyond the feeling of his lips. It’s like my thought process has stopped. My hand tightens in his hair, my nails brushing over his scalp.
West groans. The sound reverberates through his mouth and into mine. His tongue brushes over my lower lip, insistent, seeking, and the heat inside me slides down and settles between my legs.
Oh.Oh.
He’s not kissing me softly now.
It’s hard to breathe, but I don’t need air, anyway. I just need more of this.
But he lifts his head from mine. “Fuck,” he mutters. My eyes are locked on the spot at the base of his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs. He smells good.Tastesgood.
It’s like the other day.
And it’s also completely different.
West looks past me and back at the room, his gaze sweeping over it all like he’s surveying his kingdom. He’s not trying to catch his breath.
I turn my face against his warm neck again, like I’m just playing the part. Try to hide my quick breaths.
Maybe he doesn’t feel like his world changed. And why would he? He said I was the last woman he’d date. He’s doing this for his own reasons, and it’s not because he wants to.
My old crush needs to stay dead. I will just have to remind myself of that.
West’s thumb brushes over the skin of my thigh. “That was good,” he finally says. “You did very well.”
The praise warms me. Maybe it shouldn’t, maybe it’s patronizing, but maybe it doesn’t matter what someone else thinks. Only that it warms me down to my bones and lets me relax against the strength of his body.
I don’t have to worry about pleasing him when he reassures me that I do.
“What are they playing for?” I ask, like he didn’t just give me the best kiss of my life. Like I’m back to pretending. “Do you know?”
“Tonight?” His mouth is by my ear. “Houses. Companies. Boats. Planes. Sex.”
